


The Words Said

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Father-Son Relationship, Memories, Residency, post 1x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:45:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal remembers his time at Angels Memorial as his father's acceptance echoes in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words Said

_The Words Said_

 

_“I am very proud of you.”_

                Dr. Neal Hudson hadn’t expected the words from his father. When he had left England six years ago to escape – yes, he acknowledged now that he had run away – the then first year resident hadn’t thought he wouldn’t see him again. He _hadn’t_ wanted to see him again. Neal had been content with the distance, only barely repressed memories leaving a terrible taste in his mouth. He had found his refuge in Angels Memorial, with Leanne and Jesse, and the patients he treated. It was so different from neurosurgery. Neal liked the intimacy he had with his patients, with their heartbeats, and hearing their voices. He still remembered the times when he simply read the reports with his father with only meeting with the patient briefly, or not at all. The attending liked the _“manual labor”_ as his father once put it.

                One time his father had directly asked why he was wasting his time in America and being a regular doctor of all things. _“Your skills are wasted here,”_ Neal remembered his father telling him as the phone in his hand started to shake. _“Son, you’re skills as a surgeon would be better –”_ He had disconnected the conversation, feeling the eyes of his colleagues on him as the then-resident tried to control the burning indignation and rage inside him. _How_ dare _he tell me what I should or should not do!_ Neal had fumed still after an exhausting day in the ER. _How_ dare _he attempt to dictate my life as if I was a puppet!_

The anger had faded over the years, as had the whispers that followed Neal at times. He had met people like his father. People who believed that his skills would be better suited to the OR, or who saw their fellow doctors using traditional methods with scorn. They didn’t last long. Neal had been asked why he didn’t become a surgeon a lot during his early years of residency. He never had replied, only telling his fellow colleagues that their time was spent better saving a patient than talking about his former life. The only ones who didn’t seem to pry were Leanne and Mama – and Christa. _“You have good hands,”_ Leanne had told the first year resident sewed up a patient. The accident had not happened then, and Neal thought with fondness of how both warm and stern she had been then. Now she only showed of how hard she could be. Neal thought of himself then, a quiet English boy who couldn’t look anyone in the eye the first day he arrived, his confidence almost exclusively tied to his father’s praises. _I felt so small then._ His confidence had only grown in the coming years, and there were times when he wanted to tell his younger self that it would be okay. _You will no longer be overshadowed by your father, the famous Dr. Peter Hudson._ Mama had been the one to support Neal when he was confronted with the shell of Dr. Leanne Rorish. She had come back after a long time, and the then-resident was stunned by the drastic measures she took to saving patients. She no longer smiled, and their brief moments of simply talking had ceased. It was only when Neal had become an attending and became a staff member at Angles did she truly start to smile again. _“I’m very proud of you,”_ she had stated as the now-confident doctor smiled.

                Christa had simply asked him why he wasn’t a surgeon. There was a sense of awe in her voice as he allowed her to shadow him in the ER, not of the disbelief with slight scorn that the Englishman had come to recognize. _“It’s a long story,”_ Neal had told her. He had no idea why. No one, not even those who had taught him and had been with him for six years had ever heard the story why he left surgery and England. He also didn’t understood of how the sound of his name coming from her lips pulled him out of the desperation of trying to revive a patient that was dead. He remembered barely feeling control, his lungs desperately exchanging the oxygen and carbon dioxide as his breath came in rapid gasps. _I thought that if I lost her, then I could lose my mother. At that point, that woman_ was _my mother._ He had thanked for comforting his father and the man who had lost his wife. It wasn’t just that though. The resident had been brought back to reality because of her actions. _She is quite…stunning,_ he thought.

                Neal thought back to his father. The older Hudson had told him the greatest gift that he could give: that he was proud of him. The very same words that Dr. Rorish had told him, and the effect had made Neal want to laugh and smile at the same time. The sound of his father acknowledging the fact that he was an ER doctor and not a surgeon – in his own way – and that he was proud of him, almost made Neal want to cry the tears that he hadn’t cried for six years. The only other time he had cried was when he had left England, on the plane next to an older man who respectfully said nothing as a young man in scrubs started to weep fully. _“I’m sorry that I did not see that until now.”_

 _I am…glad that you could finally see who I am and who I want to be,_ Neal thought as he paused to see his parents embracing each other, his father burying his head into his mother’s shoulder. _I am glad that you can finally understand._


End file.
